


The Knight and the Maiden Bear

by AlynnaStrong



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Discussion of child prostitution, Essos, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-11-01 22:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10931154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlynnaStrong/pseuds/AlynnaStrong
Summary: AU where Jaime is taken as a slave in Essos and bought by a brutal pit fighter with a heart of gold.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The House of Tears](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10865214) by [AlynnaStrong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlynnaStrong/pseuds/AlynnaStrong). 



> This is a companion piece to “The House of Tears”. You don’t need to read one to understand the other, though. They’re meant to be two sides of the same coin, or turn about is fair play, to one another. So, similar but not exactly the same initial circumstances. The only fact you really need from the first story is: **Gryves = Valyrian for bear = Brienne.**

The third-tier slave markets of Meereen always reeked of human misery. Blood, decay, sickness; the slaves here were the lowest of the low, their owners trying to squeeze a last coin or two out of their flesh. Most could not be helped, but occasionally there was value to be found. Famed pit fighter Gryves and her healer, Rona, surveyed the merchandise.

A line of men roped together were being led through the market from the port. Though thin and probably covered in lice, they were in too good a condition to be sold here. The slavemaster snapped a riding whip at the one on the end to encourage him to move faster. He stumbled instead and fell hard onto his face. The slavemaster struck him several more times while he was down.

Gryves watched with growing confusion, finally asking, “Has he done something worse that falling down?” He looked to be a strong, handsome man under the grime.  "He'll fetch a decent price if you don't beat him to death first."

“He's got a smart mouth on him,” the slavemaster replied, giving the slave one last clout about the ear.

The man's eyes focused for a second on Gryves. “You should listen to her. She must be wise in compensation for being so ugly.”

The blows rained down on him again, this time hard enough to draw blood rather than merely leaving welts. “Apologies, m'lady. Suppose he'll never learn to keep a civil tongue. One way to fix that...” The slavemaster drew a dagger from his belt.

Gryves stepped forward, “Now, no cause for that. Sell him to me and I'll see to his discipline. Fifty?”

The slavemaster found fifty honors to be an agreeable price to rid himself of the most irritating captive this side of Volantis. He cut the Westerosi loose and handed his leash to Gryves. Supporting most of his weight on her broad shoulders, she led her new acquisition home.

 

Jaime supposed he had passed out during the trip because, coming to, he found himself facedown in a clean, cool bed. His back hurt, but not with the intensity he'd anticipated. Two women were speaking softly in Valyrian, a language he'd never mastered. He tried to force his eyes all the way open, but they felt swollen and crusted. Perhaps he'd slept longer than he thought.

“You awake this time? Or are you going to rave some more about lions and wolves?” a deep but feminine voice asked.

“I’m awake.” He tried to turn enough to see her, but all his muscles were on fire. “Are you a healer?”

“Do I look like a healer?” she asked.

No, now that he caught sight of the arm bringing a cool washing cloth up to his face, she did not look like a healer. She had a hard, muscular frame, straw-colored hair cut short and wild, scars all the way up her arms and onto her face, and incongruously, gentle and calm blue eyes. Had he said something about her being the ugliest woman alive? This could be a problem.

She turned to speak to someone else, a much older woman, with dark skin and such short hair Jaime first took her to be bald. She sponged a green concoction onto his back that soothed wherever it touched. She said something in Valyrian (that was probably not 'take careful not to cheese') and left the room.

His new mistress regarded him thoughtfully. “Rona believes you've beaten the fever. The marks will heal over in time. All you really need are a few good meals to get back on your feet. Now what should I do with you?”

“What possessed you to buy me anyway?” He pulled himself into a sitting position. The pain really wasn't bad at all now.

“I know Oathar; he lets his temper run away sometimes.” She shrugged. “It's not your fault I'm ugly.”

Wrong-footed by her frank self-assessment, Jaime stuttered, “Y-your appearance is unusual, but I never should have said-”

“You were trying to goad him into beating you to death, and you very nearly succeeded. Seemed a waste.” She paused for a beat. “I know it can seem hopeless at first, but it's not.”

She'd hit the nail on the head regarding the hopelessness. He'd been entrusted with sensitive negotiations with the Iron Bank on behalf of the Crown. Instead, his ship had been beset by pirates and chased into a storm. Some time later, he’d washed up on a beach waterlogged and lost. Tyroshi slavers found him and sent him off to this godsforsaken city to be sold like livestock. He felt like an utter failure and wasn't in a mood to be comforted by this giant aurochs of a woman. He snapped, “What do you know about it?”

She donned a tight-lipped smile as if anticipating telling him a great joke. “I was a slave up until about a year ago. I worked at a brothel, in Lys.” Her huge, expressive eyes sparkled, waiting for his reaction.

He tried very hard to disappoint, but couldn't keep his mouth from dropping open a bit. “That's- I mean, I've heard they can suit all tastes.”

“As a guard.” Her smile breaking across her face was almost lovely. “One of the customers suggested I try entering the fights. He said he'd take side bets on me and share the winnings. Worst that could happen would be that I'd lose; it made sense to me at the time. Before long, I'd made him a rich man and earned enough to buy my freedom. Then I fought my way here, pit by pit.”

“Why don't you quit now, before something happens?”

“I hardly have enough money to retire. Especially since I keep spending it on lost causes like you,” she mocked gently. “Now, you should rest. Tomorrow we'll figure out if you can make yourself useful.”

 _Money!_ “Wait!” he called after her. “You need to know who I am.”

“Do I?” she said. Her gentleness was disappearing in a gallop.

“My name is Ser Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister, of Casterly Rock.” No glimmer of recognition shone for the giantess yet. “We are a very old, VERY wealthy family. If you escort me home, I promise my father will reward you with riches beyond your wildest dreams.”

“Home? To somewhere is Westeros? Not likely. Save your dream rewards for pretty girls with empty pockets.”

“I'm not lying! On my honor as a knight…” He trailed off. He knew full well his honor wasn’t worth swearing on. “You paid fifty for me. I promise you at least 5,000 if you bring me home. Enough to retire on. You'd never have to risk your life again. You know it's worth the gamble.”

She considered, narrowed eyes taking in his manner of speech and general air of entitlement. “I fight the day after tomorrow. Assuming all goes well, we'd have a month before the next important bout. All right. If I win, we go to Westeros.”

 

Rona cleared him to attend the fight (he was pretty sure that's what she'd said). Enough of his Valyrian came back to him to recall that Gryves meant 'bear', which made him feel a little bad for her, though she didn't seem to mind. He'd also heard a lot about the 'cubs', which made him curious about what manner of man had bedded down with her.

Gryves brought him a hardy meal for his last night in the sick room. She seemed in good spirits about the fight tomorrow, telling him what to expect. She only once looked at the dark side, asking him to please help Aisha, who ran the household and tended to follow Gryves everywhere, get home safely if the worst happened. Jaime tried to change the subject back to something more pleasant.

“Do I understand that you have children, my lady?” he asked.

“What? Who would-” she began in a way that so paralleled his earlier thoughts that he felt guilty, “No, of course not. I couldn't fight if I was with child.”

“I must have misunderstood. I thought Rona said you had 'cubs' and was making a play on bear...cubs?”

“Oh, no, she just meant—you, the slaves. I think Aisha started it. She calls you all my cubs.”

He started to ask why, but as the others passed through his mind he realized... Aisha, the former bedslave, who now ran a large household; Rona, the old healer, plus the maid with no tongue, and of course, himself. “You like to fix broken things.” She inclined her head, thinking perhaps. “You’re a protector, a mother bear.”

“I am not.” She suddenly looked affronted. “I’ve killed a lot of people. Most never did anything to me but stand in my way.”

“So, what, you’re trying to save one for each you’ve killed?”

“Of course not!” she exclaimed so vehemently that Jaime knew he’d guessed it in one. She stalked off to find her bath without meeting his eyes.

 

Gryves dressed for her fight in a leather vest and tasset, with no metal armor of any kind. People don’t pay to see statues clanking about, she’d explained. They like flesh, blood, and death. Her greatsword was sheathed on her back and her signature weapon, a set of cestuses with wicked claws attached, were strapped to her wrists.

Aisha was so pale she looked like she might fall over. She kept herself moving, applying war paint, making sure Gryves’ sandals were tied securely, and begging her not to die. Once Gryves had left to wait her turn with the other fighters, Aisha curled her tall, slender frame into a ball and rocked back and forth.  The contrast between her jet black hair and milk white skin grew ever more alarming.

“Shouldn’t you be out there taking bets or something?” Jaime asked, trying to snap her out of it.

“Not yet. She fights third. There is nothing in this godsdamned world I hate more than fight days. I have to go out there and joke and cajole and flirt with everyone, like it’s all about money, like it’s no big deal to me if she lives or dies. You don’t understand; this is not some Westerosi tourney. She could die. She could very easily die.”

Jaime had seen people die at tourneys before, but Aisha was right, that was never the goal. Here the fights were all to the death, whether they be man vs man, woman, beast or child. He had a certain selfish interest in the outcome, to be sure, though even if he hadn't, he wouldn't have wanted to see her die. This place was barbaric. He could only pray that he'd soon be on his way home.

The first fight was man vs beast and, after a spirited battle, a lion went down to defeat. Jaime reminded himself that, at least for today, he was on team ‘bear’. The second fight featured two men. They seemed evenly matched, and it went on for long enough that Jaime was starting to feel bored up until one stabbed the other through the heart. Not a tourney at all.

Gryves’ match was the highlight, a four-way brawl with her and three men. The combatants first paired up two by two, and Jaime released a breath he hadn’t realized he's been holding. If they’d all three come after her, he might have done something foolish. She was sword to sword with the most muscular of the four. She had him on speed, though, dodging his blows without taking a nick. Jaime had just enough time to wonder if she was disappointed not to be bleeding for the crowd when she opened her opponent from groin to throat. She was instantly coated in blood and viscera. Her sword too slick to use, she left it in his neck and relied on her claws.

The taller of her opponents had inflicted a deep cut to the other’s side, but they were still closely engaged. Gryves roared as if impatient and launched herself at the injured man whose back was to her. One set of claws raked him across the belly while the other caught in his hair. She pulled down, ripping off his face and opening his gut in one smooth motion. Her remaining opponent danced out of the way of the mess to assess the situation.

This was a tricky moment, Jaime realized. She has a problem with reach in claws versus sword. She backed away from the fight until she could deftly snatch up the dead man’s sword. She went in for an overhand attack meant to disarm, but her opponent had seen her speed and knew that to lose his sword meant death. He held on, and inch by inch, forced her sword back toward her chest. Jaime had thought she was stronger than that, then he noticed that she was fighting one-handed. Her left arm had sneaked below her waist, and in a shower of blood, she shredded the man’s thigh. She stepped back to let him lunge wildly and bleed out before stepping back in to rip open his throat.

After the fights concluded, Gryves collected a sizable purse as well as a surprising number of gifts, letters, and cards. She passed most of them off to Aisha who promptly starting sorting them and exclaiming about invitations and offers of free services. It was as if the grisly display had never happened. Despite her high spirits, though, Jaime earned a growled 'shut your mouth' for speculating too loudly about which three jobs she would create next in her household.

 

The voyage to Lannisport proved hard on Gryves. She didn't like the confinement, nor the food, nor the manner of clothing she was obligated to wear as they journeyed further from her familiar habitat. Jaime tried to distract her with talking, but she wasn't a huge fan of that either. She would listen to Jaime's stories, especially about his early knighthood, but didn't care to talk about herself. When Jaime made the mistake of asking about her first pit fight, she took the next three meals alone in her cabin.

He decided to stick to safer topics, like her cubs. “Was Aisha your first?” he asked. He didn't expect the startled jump and suspicious glare.

“My first...?”

“Slave. What else?” he asked then figured it out. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it. She trailed after her like a puppy dog.

She flushed, seeing his eyes widen. “Yes, I knew her from the brothel, from Lys. She asked me to buy her if I ever could. But we never- She's my property. It wouldn't be right.”

“A lot of people buy slaves for just that purpose.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

"She clearly idolizes you.  She would do anything."

"Still doesn't make it right," Gryves said with discussion-ending force.

“You might be too stubborn for your own good. There's been no one, then?”

“No, I told you, I can't. Not until I retire.”

“Well, in a few days, I hope to send you back home with bags of gold and a belly full of cubs.” She flushed such a bright shade of red that he had to laugh.

 

Gryves wore a suit of Westerosi style clothing to deliver Jaime to Casterly Rock.  He'd chosen it for her, and she didn't like it, but Jaime thought she looked surprisingly non-hideous. It was made of cornflower blue silk and draped well on her frame. True, she looked more like a young man than a proper lady, but he hadn't been expecting miracles. She'd even combed her hair.

Tywin Lannister listened impassively as Jaime detailed the history of his disastrous mission. He nodded only a perfunctory thanks to Gryves as Jaime described how she'd saved him from a gruesome death. Once his story concluded, Tywin ordered his steward to prepare a reward of 10,000 gold dragons for the young lady. Her voice sounded abnormally high when she thanked him and accepted his offer of 2000 coins, with the rest to be paid by contract with the Iron Bank of Braavos.

Gryves might have wandered out of the hall in a daze at receiving double an already insane reward, had Tywin's next words not been so full of scorn. “So, my eldest son has botched another mission and further endangered his nephew's throne. You're actually being outdone by your younger brother, which is a degree of failure I honestly didn't think you capable of. Do you realize our family name is at stake here? ”

Gryves stepped in front of Jaime, as if she could protect him from Tywin’s words with her bulk. Jaime put a hand on her shoulder. “Father, perhaps we can speak later. I should escort our guest to her chamber for the evening.” Tywin dismissed them both with a disgusted expression.

They'd barely gotten out of earshot when her brow furrowed and she asked, “Are you sure you want me to leave you with him? He's not a kind man.”

“No, but he's my father. He'll come around. My little brother has had it far worse, to say nothing of my sister.” For some reason, thinking of Cersei didn't bring the familiar pangs of desire. Instead, some weird caprice of mischief prompted him to ask, “So, you have the bags of gold. Do you want the other thing I offered?” It was practically a business debt; Cersei would understand.

She laughed nervously, then shook her head. “No, but thank you for asking,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

 

 


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of this story contains, like, 80% of the plot. I was never satisfied with the ending though, so I’m expanding the epilogue to a probably self-indulgent degree. So what if it doubles the length of the story? My weird, self-imposed rules are made to be broken.

Two years after his ordeal, Jaime's uncle Kevan wrote to him about a strange group of people that had arrived from Essos looking to buy land in the Westerlands. Their leader had mentioned Jaime by name, he'd said. He hadn't said that she'd scared the nightsoil out of him, but Jaime read that between the lines. They claimed that they wanted to start a new life in a place away from the chaos of the Dragon Queen where freedom was a birthright.

Jaime wrote back to suggest that they be given Faircastle on Fair Isle to manage since Lord Farman had died without heir. He told Kevan that this was the gladiator who had brought him back safely from Essos. The group may have odd customs but could be trusted, he said. Having them on their own little island seemed a decent solution for all, Kevan agreed.

The community had only been established for a moon’s turn before Jaime found an excuse to visit. He had a message for the lords of the Westerland coastal and island estates inviting them to a summit at Casterly Rock in three moons to discuss the increasing frequency of Ironborn attacks. Ravens had sufficed to deliver the letters to the other houses, but he’d wanted to see Fair Isle for himself. From what he'd heard, eunuchs were planting crops, ladies' maids were tending sheep, and a former bedslave was bossing everyone around. He was most curious about how a certain retired gladiator was spending her time.

Jaime told the ship’s captain to return for him in a week. This was surely an overly-generous allotment of time to deliver a message, but no ships regularly sailed to Fair Isle. He’d either have to skimp on the visit – just deliver the message and sail off again – or stay the entire week of the ship’s trading cycle. He choose to risk intruding on her hospitality. He’d certainly brought enough housewarming gifts to make up for any inconvenience.

An Unsullied who went by the name of Sunshine Flower spotted Jaime’s approach. He’d chosen the name himself, and as much as Jaime may want to mock it, he only had to think about the man’s history to sober up. If he’d been through such tortures, he’d want to associate himself with something happy, too. With no other vices to pursue, Sunny was starting to turn a little chubby, Jaime noticed. Gryves should increase their training regimen.

Sunny sent for the mistress of the house who soon arrived, looking surprised and out of sorts. _And, good gods does she have no idea how to dress for Westerosi sensibilities._ She wore a man’s tunic that was too small for her, light boots, and nothing else. Her legs were exposed from mid-thigh to ankle! Jaime didn’t think even Cersei would be seen in something so scandalous, and half her dresses showed her breasts from the right angle. Never mind that Gryves’ legs were covered with scars from wounds that had probably once been life-threatening, Jaime couldn’t keep himself from wondering if she wore smallclothes.

“Jaime! I didn’t expect you to visit.”

“Whyever not? Just because you owned me once doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I brought gifts if you want to send someone to collect them at the dock. Some fruit from Highgarden, a few books in Common, some cloth for warmer clothes.” _I hope someone among them knows how to make pants._

“That’s kind of you. Some of us were wondering how to get trade goods.”

“I’m sure I can help you. How many companions did you bring over with you?”

“Twenty four. That was all of the…cubs. I gave them a choice, even offered some money but-”

“They wanted to stay with Mama Bear.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled but looked pleased.

“Any Papa Bear sharing your den yet?”

“What? No,” she seemed almost shocked. “All the men here are eunuchs.”

“Oh dear, I didn’t realize that was your policy. I’d hoped to stay a while, but…”

She laughed, a rich rumble that Jaime didn’t think he’d heard before. “Never fear, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Her stunning blue eyes said that even though she was laughing, she meant it. _And that is why two dozen people followed her across an ocean._

 

Many of Gryves’ former slaves were nearly idle for much of the day, but not Aisha. The majordomo had always kept exacting standards and seemed bound and determined to achieve perfection for their new home. Other community members had already learned to look busy when they heard her long-legged stride or she’d find them something to do.

When she pulled Jaime aside, he half expected to be put to work as well. He wouldn’t have minded it really. He’d done plenty weeding and rock-hauling in his day. It built character and muscles. She had something to say, however.

“Gryves talked about you a lot once she came home. She told us all about Westeros and your castle. She said she felt guilty about leaving you with your father, like she’d sold you to him. She was worried about you.”

“I’m fine. My father and I made amends before he passed on.”

“That’s good.” Aisha looked down, uncharacteristicly timid. “She also told me what you offered to do for her. I…um, I was probably the reason she turned you down. See, I’d told her about my experiences, and that might have scared her. I was trying to help! She didn’t think she should have sex, so I said she wasn’t missing anything. Everything I said was the truth: it _was_ always bad for me, painful and terrifying.”

Confident, self-assured Aisha talking haltingly about being raped countless times since childhood made Jaime want to gut every man in Lys. His hand froze halfway to her shoulder, unsure about whether his touch would be welcome.

“I understand that it doesn’t have to be that way for everyone,” she continued. “If you want, I can tell her that trying it at twenty is probably a lot different than at ten.”

_Dragonfire is too good for them._

“I think she’d like being a mother. She might even enjoy trying.” Aisha seemed to shake herself back to the present day. “So, do you want me to talk to her or what?” she asked in closer to her usual tone of voice.

Jaime tried to work his way back from speechlessness. “I would like that,” came out of his mouth without him really thinking about it. “I am kind of surprised. I had the idea you wanted to sleep with her.”

“No…I was just grateful, and that’s the only way I knew to show it. She never took me up on it though, which makes me so happy.” Tears leaked out of Aisha's eyes. She angrily wiped them away. “She’s so good. You don’t understand. No matter what she looks like, what she’s done, she’s just good all the way down.”

Jaime opened his arms and Aisha surprised him by leaning in to be hugged. She sniffled quietly while he held her. “I do understand. I do. I saw it, too.”

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” she muttered against his chest.

“I know, and I won’t,” he promised.

After a while, he felt Aisha start to pull away. She couldn’t quite look at him yet, still ashamed about showing weakness. “Just so you know, I do share her bed. It’s the only way I feel safe. She vowed I never have to…um…so, if we’re ever all together just don’t touch me, okay?”

“Of course.” He released her. “I, uh, noticed Sunny has put on a bit of weight. Maybe you should assign him to patrol.”

“That fucker. I told him to stay out of the walnuts. We’re going to have to get guards for the guards,” she said, sounding more like herself with every word. “I’ll talk to her,” she said as she dashed off.

 

Jaime ended up staying for over a month. Gryves proved tricky to court in any sort of traditional way. She didn’t understand why he picked flowers for her or tried to read her poetry. She balked and denied any compliments about her body unless they focused on her muscles or strength. She let him steal a kiss, but seemed to think it was merely an awkward greeting.

Finally, he got her attention by asking to spar with her. They headed to the training yard with swords he carefully checked to make sure were blunted. She started by taking it easy on him – on him! – and made him feel like he had to earn her respect. Her light-footed movement was unbelievable in someone so large and her strength undeniable. She brought out every competitive instinct in his body. At some point, his efforts crossed the line between being a favor for her to an imperative for him.

Gryves showed him some of her favorite spots on the island. An isolated cove proved an excellent place for swimming. At first Jaime looked away when she undressed, but she only laughed and asked if she was really so ugly that he had to swim with his eyes closed. He should have expected she’d be a natural swimmer. She’d grown up on the island of Lys and was nothing but stacks of corded muscle. Still, watching her cut through the water with such grace was almost too much to bear. She noticed him watching, then noticed that ‘ugly’ was obviously not how he found her. She swam back to the shore, and they let their undeniable attraction take its course.

 

“What does Alatosh mean?” Jaime asked Aisha after a few days of outings.

Aisha's eyebrows shot up and she looked at him with an amused, coy smile. If he hadn’t known 100% otherwise, he’d have thought she was flirting. “It’s the name of a goddess. She’s sacred to gladiators, and they’re not really supposed to say her name out loud. If you’ve heard it, you must be doing okay.”

“She always seems pleased,” he said carefully.

“Good. I’ll let you know if she has any trouble keeping down her porridge.”

Jaime had to leave before they were sure anything had taken root. Messages from the Crown became increasingly icy until he had to return or soldiers would be sent to find out why.

He promised Gryves that he would be at Casterly Rock in two moons for the summit. They could try again there, if necessary, or even if not.

 

She might have gained a bit of weight, and her breasts were definitely larger, Jaime appraised when he encountered Gryves again. She wore men’s clothing, as usual, but thankfully someone had advised her to cover up before she encountered the assembled lords at Casterly Rock. She caught his eye, broad lips spreading into a smile and ran a hand over her belly.

Jaime would rather have spent the entire conference at her side, but the problems with the Ironborn were genuinely pressing. The more he heard from the lords of the region, the more concerned he became for her strategic position.

“I’m very pleased you made it here. Have you been talking with the others? I think holding Fair Isle is going to difficult without a substantial garrison. It’s in the Ironborn’s way if they want to raid south of the Crags. They are likely to make it a priority.”

“That’s what everyone is saying. You know, it’s frightening to think that I might not be able to fight when the time comes. We traveled so far to get away from war, and now we find ourselves in the middle of another one.”

“I will make sure that you’re safe. Perhaps for the time being you should bring your people to Casterly Rock,” Jaime said. He didn’t care that he was being reckless. Even his father would have understood trying to protect his blood.

“Maybe I should move everyone to Tarth like that crazy old man wants,” she replied.

“Who?” Jaime asked, and was shocked to see Gryves pointing out the Lord of Ships, Selwyn Tarth. Jaime had always found him to be quite a level-headed member of the small council. He had come west to advise on how many ships could be spared from the royal fleet to combat the Ironborn menace.

“He claims I’m his long-lost daughter. He seemed so sure; I feel sorry for him. He has such sad eyes.”

Jaime sat next to Lord Tarth at dinner. He was hardly being subtle about his fascination with Gryves, staring moonily at her like she was a precious flower. Jaime tried to spot any resemblance. Tarth was a large and hale man, fair of hair and skin, but surely too young to be her father. Then again, sometimes islandfolk looked young, and she was perhaps aged beyond her years by the Esson sun.

“You truly think she’s your daughter?” Jaime asked.

Lord Tarth didn’t seem surprised by the question. Jaime supposed he’d seen them talking if he’d been staring at her all evening. “She’s the very image of her mother.”

“Really.” Jaime couldn’t even make it into a question. Surely no such Lady had ever walked the Seven Kingdoms. “She’s covered in scars from head to foot.”

“Probably not her fault, but she was always a fighter. I’ll bet her enemies came off worse.”

 _He‘s convincing himself_ , Jaime thought. He decided to try to break his delusion. “You know, she cuddles with a woman at night.”

“So do I, every chance I get,” Lord Tarth shrugged.

Jaime had, in fact, heard that, but it was hardly the same thing. He tried again. “She has a bastard in her belly. You can see she’s just starting to show.”

Tarth took that with equanimity as well. “I may have wished a different life for her, but she’s still my daughter.”

“How can you be so sure?” _It would be amusing if it wasn’t so sad. Of all the people to have latched on to…_

“She has her mother’s eyes. That color, I’ve never seen it before or since.”

Jaime’s protests stopped in their tracks. They were unforgettable eyes. “Tell me about your daughter,” he said.

Lord Tarth wistfully told him all about his big, sweet-hearted girl who followed in every one of her brother’s footsteps. Tarth felt like he’d cursed his own house the day he sent her away to be fostered with her intended’s family. Soon after he got word that her ship was lost, his son drowned, and he’d never had another child live past infancy.

“Why do you ask, Ser?” Tarth realized that the usually disaffected knight had been hanging on his every word.

“Who do you think got her with child? I love her quite a lot, you see.” Jaime could scarce believe he was saying it out loud, but it was true. He’d tried to go back to King’s Landing, tried to be with Cersei, but it had proven impossible. Every cruelty Cersei committed became magnified by asking what Gryves would have done in her place. His heart hardened against his sister to the point that even her form was no longer pleasing, her blatant manipulation too insulting.

Tarth looked him in the eye, his expression full of surprise and a kind of respect. “You believe me?”

“I’m starting to think it’s possible.” Jaime grinned, “And I have an idea.”

 

Jaime led Gryves to an outside balcony. The wind blew from the west, bringing with it the scent of the ocean. “Now close your eyes,” he told her.

“You’re not going to propose marriage are you?” she asked. “You’d lose your position, and I don’t need a husband. I’m quite happy with the cub. Perhaps another someday, if you’re game.” She looked over to him, trying and failing not to blush.

“We can talk about that later. For now, close your eyes.” She complied with a forbearing smile.

“Brienne,” Lord Tarth said. (‘As normally as you can,’ Jaime had told him. ‘Say it like she probably heard it a thousand times before.’)

Her head snapped around, confusion written on her features.

“You-”

“Your name is Brienne. Can you remember? You were seven. You sailed away. You watched me and your mother and Galladon until you couldn’t see us anymore.”

“Was there a castle on top of a mountain?” she asked, squinting.

“Yes! That’s Evenfall Hall. It’s your home. Please come back. You can bring all your people. We have plenty of room. The place has been so empty for so long.”

“It’s much safer,” Jaime said, “Plus, you know Aisha would love to run an actual castle.”

“Perhaps we will visit and see if any memories come back,” she said. “No promises. I’m still not sure I believe…why would you even want me?” she asked suddenly. “I can’t be a Westerosi lady. I don’t know anything other than fighting, and a very particular sort of fighting at that. Most of those Lords in there can barely look at me.”

"You’re the same girl who took in birds with broken wings and stray kittens. Who saw beauty in driftwood and strangely shaped rocks. Who never said an unfair word to anyone no matter how unkind they were to you. I know you, Brienne. Your nature can’t change. I’ll always love you and want you near me,” Lord Tarth said.

Jaime added, “By the way, having a lord husband could help with that being a lady problem. Just saying. Food for thought.”

 

The newly renamed Brienne hadn’t been on Tarth for an hour before she began to realize that at least some of Lord Tarth’s tale had to be true. Bringing everyone over to their second new home was the work of several months. Jaime arrived last, having left his white cloak behind the day Cersei ordered him to betray their allies. Several more months were required before Jaime finally convinced her that marriage was, if nothing else, practical. Lines of succession and family fortunes could depend on it.

The bride was in active labor as she said her vows. Her bedding involved her healer Rona and a considerable amount of pain. Still, when the dawn’s light shone across the face of the future Evenstar, the assembled parents, co-parent, grandfather, and all the rest of the extended family agreed it could not be more glorious.

 


End file.
